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JEWEL TRANCE: THE WHITE TRUCK

http://jeweltrance.blogspot.com/2008/12/white-truck.html

I call the white truck. I call the ashes. I call the black silt on the sill, I call the wrinkled coal-like. Nuggets of black flies,. I call the screen, the smog haze. THE TOUCH WITHOUT KNOWLEDGE. Of what is touched,. I call the sand against my fingers,. I call the woman home, I call the trees and red lights. I call the hatred, the hawks. Out of chuckholes in the asphalt, I call them to shake off. Their wet sparks and ignite my shirt which is wet. I call the mouths speaking new myths. I’m afraid I&#...

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JEWEL TRANCE: CEREMONIES

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In rocking coconut shells. On the Ganges -. To acknowledge the paradox. That the Monsoon gives. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). I don't know anything except what I am trying to do." Roethke. Check out this interview with Gene on Abalone Moon! RISKING THE GAUNTLET OF ROBINS. WARMED ME WHEN I WAS COLD. THIS DRIVER CARRIES NO CASH. GOING TO FAST TO STOP. SONG OF A HIGH SCHOOL DROPOUT. KOREAN WOMEN WARMED ME WHEN I WAS COLD. RISKING THE GAUNTLET OF ROBINS. THIS DRIVER CARRIES NO CASH. ITS ALL ABOUT ME.

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JEWEL TRANCE: LASSO

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Driving in Memorial Day traffic. Across the San Joaquin Valley at mid-day. Just as dulled as all the other nullified drivers. Despite wonderful camping at the river. A scene unfolded as I approached the Richmond hills. That stunned me from my daze:. Loped onto the freeway and barked! Until all lanes stopped: the dogs stood there. Of this herd, barking! An old woman stepped. Whirling her cane overhead,. As if she were about to lasso a vehicle,. Into the middle of Park Presidio Blvd,. As I slowed to a stop.

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JEWEL TRANCE: PHILIPPINE SNAKES

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You're goddamn right I expect you to smoke it! Now you listen at this: that cigar's twisted up there like a dogturd on Hugo. Street but it ain't no such a thing. The fact is, it smokes smooth as the Snow Queen's breath whispering outa. About springtime, when the snow starts to crack and slide - -. Out onto the dried earth just before the clover. Pops loose and gets to shakin in the wind under the bright sun. That cigar's made in the filipines, where they got Bang-. Center. She says that Bang-Utot. For al...

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JEWEL TRANCE: SWIMMER & SEAGULL

http://jeweltrance.blogspot.com/2008/12/swimmer-seagull.html

Like the gull on the buoy. No less, my mind gleans his thought. He knows me, as I swim by. He doesn’t move. Creatures in the sea’s dream. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). I don't know anything except what I am trying to do." Roethke. Check out this interview with Gene on Abalone Moon! RISKING THE GAUNTLET OF ROBINS. WARMED ME WHEN I WAS COLD. THIS DRIVER CARRIES NO CASH. GOING TO FAST TO STOP. SONG OF A HIGH SCHOOL DROPOUT. KOREAN WOMEN WARMED ME WHEN I WAS COLD. RISKING THE GAUNTLET OF ROBINS.

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JEWEL TRANCE: THE MYSTERY OF REFLECTIONS

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THE MYSTERY OF REFLECTIONS. Willows trace watery hieroglyphs. As I look through. A goldfish swims up brightly. Carrying a bubble to the surface. Like a thought he found. Somewhere on the bottom. I watch him swim. Lazily back into the darkness. While clouds coalesce on the surface of my face. They are sliding as the wind. Wobbles their reflections even. As it moves the clouds themselves. Everywhere the world echoes infinite textures. The continental cloud in the sky separates. In my face of water. MySpace...

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JEWEL TRANCE: E'ery Li'l Penis

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E’ery li’l penis. Maybe it nod a eon in a canoe. Sniff’n a Eleanor or 2,. She might be a fuckin gnu. She wanta Renew too! It could be like a muthafucka Mayflower. You know, goin toward a America. Jus a diamond in the mind a de fat man. As the sayin go. A li’l rejuvenatin. 8216;ll get somethin’ jumpin! Bumble bee stumblin inside a flower. Fucked up and all full o Buzz. Aimin for nuthin but return trips. Dodgin that hand uncoiling out the fern. Furred with rusty short hair fuzz. Jus as the world was born.

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JEWEL TRANCE: RISKING THE GAUNTLET OF ROBINS

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RISKING THE GAUNTLET OF ROBINS. Green inch worms descend. From the canopy on a thread. To leaf litter where they. Wildly throw themselves around. As if panicked for direction. Yet are rooted on four rear feet. To then scrunch forward. In some bewildering quest. After a few days – a gossamer. Of colors nick the pine needles. Colors that startle you. Like Van Gogh’s prisoner in the painting,. Were he to look up, instead of just. Going round and round shackled. To his orbit of gloom, look up the tower.

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JEWEL TRANCE: CRITICAL IMPERATIVES

http://jeweltrance.blogspot.com/2008/12/certain-imperatives.html

On the porch watching a tiny spider. Scrambling at the end. Of its thread caught in the breeze – such a. Tiny being riding what to him must be a force. As furious as any apocalyptic horse. Held by a strand as thin as a scratch. Of light, that comes out of himself! Sitting, and feeling I could not so much. As move the plant. That shifting its shadow. Would upset the order of things. That. Against the philosophy –. And all is a rollercoaster ride of folly! Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom).